Chapter Four

Charlee-Mae woke up the next day to a bedside note.

We"ll talk when I get back.

~ P.

She flipped the note around just to be sure there wasn"t anything else written, and when she found out there was none, she settled back against the pillows with a sigh.

Huh.

Last night, Nurse Stella had come in before Philippe could answer her question, and after that, Dr. Manolis had also come to check on her, and before she knew it, the phone extension in her room had started to ring, and his sister-in-law Greta"s call had ended up taking her husband away for good.

It was frustrating to say the least, but since Greta"s call had been about work, Charlee-Mae had quickly assured her husband she was fine on her own.

Except she was not.

Her gaze flicked back to Philippe"s handwritten note, and she wondered if she was being unreasonable to hope that there was an "I love you" hidden somewhere in Philippe"s note.

She had imagined Frenchmen in general to be romantic, but maybe her beautiful and sexy husband was the exception to the rule. He was super, super sweet after all, so maybe, he was simply being considerate. Since she had lost all memories of meeting and falling in love with him, her husband might"ve imagined telling her "I love you" could make her feel pressured into saying the words back.

Charlee-Mae thought this over, and after a moment, she decided it was so. After all, Philippe didn"t seem to be the type to let himself be caught up in a whirlwind romance if his feelings weren"t involved. Add to that their undeniable sexual chemistry, and voila: a couple in love was born.

Her positive outlook now fully restored, Charlee-Mae hummed happily as she swung her legs off the bed and headed to the en-suite for a much-needed shower.

It was a bummer that her head wound meant she wouldn"t be able to wash her hair for almost a week, but at least the rest of her would feel fresh and clean.

Deliciously hot water warmed her skin as she soaped her body, and just like she always did every morning, Charlee-Mae started talking to God in her mind, and Lord, oh Lord, did she have a lot to say, like—-

Thank You, God!

She had always dreamed of having a grand romance that would look like it was straight out of a Dynasty episode, and that was exactly what she had now, with Charlee-Mae having fallen in love, getting married, and losing all memories of her husband in the span of two weeks.

She was sure things would only get more exciting from here, and the thought had Charlee-Mae cheerfully singing Lady Marmalade as she finished her shower. After unpinning her hair and drying herself off, she wrapped the towel around her body...and bumped straight into a hard wall of muscles as soon as she walked out of the en-suite.

Charlee-Mae looked up, and her throat went dry as her mood changed lightning-quick from stunned to feverish.

The lust blazing in her husband"s jade-green eyes made her remember how he had made her cum, and Charlee-Mae could only gulp and fidget as she struggled to control the desire that was spreading fast through her bloodstream.

How amazing was it that this beautiful and oh-so-sexy man was her husband...but at the same time feel like a virtual stranger? Just looking at Philippe made her feel so hot, and the fact that she didn"t remember marrying him just made things more exciting. It was like wanting something forbidden, except it wasn"t really forbidden, and when she saw the way Philippe was staring at how half of her breasts swelled over her towel—-

He wanted her as bad as she wanted him, Charlee-Mae realized dizzily, and the knowledge made her reach up, and before she could let herself think twice, the towel wrapped around her body had already fallen to the floor—-

"Mon Dieu."

—-just as both of them heard the door start to open.

Nurse Stella entered her patient"s room while patting her pockets to see which one of it...ah, there it was. She fished her pen out of the pocket of her pants. "Good morning, Mrs. DeRose—-" She looked up and belatedly noticed her patient"s elegantly handsome fiancé, who remained to be the favorite topic of the entire hospital staff. "—-and Mr. DeRose."

Charlee-Mae couldn"t help beaming even though she was completely naked under the sheets. "Good morning." It was her first time to hear someone address her as Philippe"s wife, and she loved it. No more Cha-Cha or Charlee-Mae! From now on, she wanted only to be known as Mrs. DeRose, for ever and ever!

"Good morning." Philippe"s tone was stiff, just as the rest of him was. He could not remember having moved so fast in his life, but what stunned him more was how such a thing had happened in the first place. He had fucked literally countless women in the past two decades, but not once had he ever been put in a situation where anyone could have caught him in flagrante delicto.

The only thing that made today different from all the other times he had sex was his wife...and that was definitely a problem.

His brooding gaze swung back to his wife, who remained under the covers while she answered Nurse Stella"s questions in a voice that was still slightly breathless, and fuck, fuck, fuck—-

The sound of it made him harder under his pants, and Philippe had to clench and unclench his fists in an effort to control himself.

"That"s it then," Nurse Stella said cheerfully. "I"ll be back in perhaps two...no, actually, I think I"ll just come back after lunch."

"Thank you."

"Merci."

Nurse Stella smiled at the couple, and on her way out, she bent down to pick up a discarded towel off the floor and made sure to discreetly lock the door before seeing herself out.

Charlee-Mae burst into laughter. "Oh my God." They clearly hadn"t fooled Nurse Stella at all, and when she looked up at her husband—-

The faint grimace on his beautiful face was too precious by half, and she automatically thought of reaching for her phone to take a photo—-oh!

Philippe immediately saw the way Charlee-Mae"s forehead start to furrow. "Qu"est-ce que c"est?"

"I just remembered I don"t have my phone."

"I am sorry to say that the old one is irreparable, but your replacement unit should be with you tomorrow at the latest." This was a lie, of course, but his I.T. team needed another half day at least to complete their tasks.

"I see..."

"If you"re thinking of calling your parents, they"re still in a couples" retreat that doesn"t allow for outside communication. I thought I would let you decide if you wish them to know about your accident—-"

"I"d rather not, to be honest. I love my parents, but they can be a bit over the top." She looked at him curiously. "Have you met them yet?"

"Non. They had already left for their retreat when we met." He paused. "Is there anyone else you"d like to call?"

"My sister-in-law," his wife said right away. "Just like you have Greta," she added with a smile, "I have Charlotte."

"Is that so?" Philippe"s courteous tone effectively masked his discomfort. If Charlee-Mae hadn"t lost her memories, she would"ve known it wasn"t like that at all. She would"ve been aware that Greta was not just his sister-in-law but his mistress as well.

But because she had lost her memories—-

Just hearing her say Greta"s name already felt as if he was doing her a disservice, and so...

Philippe"s jaw clenched as he came into a decision.

For as long as Charlee-Mae thought their marriage real, his honor required him to act similarly. And that was all there was to this, Philippe told himself forcefully. A matter of honor—-

"Philippe?"

Merde.

He saw Charlee-Mae looking at him questioningly, and he realized he had been too busy thinking of Greta that he had missed whatever it was his wife said.

"Je suis désolé,"he apologized. "I have much in my mind—-"

"Because of work?"

Her words gave him the excuse he needed, and he took it without hesitation. "We are just busy with last-minute adjustments, but do not concern yourself about it. I will not let myself be distracted again—-

Charlee-Mae shook her head. "There"s no need to apologize, and there"s certainly no need to treat me like an invalid you need to look after. I only lost my memory," she reminded him, "and aside from this stupid head wound, and a few scratches here and there, nothing"s really wrong with me."

"That stupid head wound," he said dryly, "required twenty-four stitches."

"Stitches," she emphasized, "not brain surgery."

His lips suddenly twitched, and Charlee-Mae"s breath caught. How was it that her husband managed to look a thousand times hotter every time he had even the barest hint of a smile on his oh-so-lovely lips?

"What exactly are we arguing about here?"

His teasing words made her realize she hadn"t an answer to that either, and she could only shake her head with a rueful smile. "No idea either."

"Then let"s talk about something else, oui?"

His wife"s expression brightened. "I"d love to know more about your launch, if that"s okay?"

"Bien s?r, ma femme. We are in the winemaking business—-"

Charlee-Mae"s heart was singing again. Philippe had said "we", and that made her feel very much "married", never mind if she still couldn"t remember a thing about meeting him.

"But this year we have chosen to expand into luxury liquor chocolate. We want in particular to be associated with holidays and special occasions—-"

"Like Tiffany"s for engagement rings," Charlee-Mae guessed, "only you"d be the Tiffany"s for chocolates?"

"That is correct."

"And the reason you"re here in Jackson Hole is, mm..." Her eyes lit up. "Foxtown! It"s fast becoming America"s #1 tourist destination for adults, and you"ve tied up with them for—-" It was now the first week of February. "—-Valentine"s?"

"Tout à fait." Exactly.

The approval in her husband"s voice made Charlee-Mae feel like she was floating, but it also made her realize just how unlucky she had been at dating in the past. She was almost thirty-two, for God"s sake, and yet this was the first time she had a man look at her approvingly because of her brains.

Philippe"s phone suddenly rang, but the call only lasted for less than a minute. Afterwards, he turned to her, saying, "That was my assistant. I had asked him earlier to see if he could find a way to contact the organizers of your parents" retreat."

Charlee-Mae watched him scribble down her parents" contact details on the hospital"s notepad. His handwriting was neat and masculine, and everything lined up so perfectly straight one would have thought he had used a ruler while writing.

Philippe handed her the note when he was done, and it was then she realized what her husband had written. "N.C. huh?"

He looked at her curiously. "Does that mean anything to you?"

Charlee-Mae sighed. "N.C. is their code for nudist camps." She saw Philippe"s brows shoot up, and her lips twitched. "I told you, didn"t I? My parents are over the top, and mm...I guess you can also say they"re very liberal? More French," she teased, "than American."

"Then I"m sure your parents and I will get along perfectly."

"I wouldn"t know about that." Her lips pursed. "You seem a bit more...proper than the average Frenchman?"

"How so?" Philippe"s tone was extremely pleasant. "Have you considerable experience dating Frenchmen to make such a comparison?"

"Oh my." Amber eyes sparkled up at him. "Are you jealous?"

"Of course not." But this time, his voice was stiff, and even worse, Philippe suspected there was a trace of truth in her words. He had never been jealous. Not even once. But thinking of Charlee-Mae with any other man did bother the fuck out of him—-

"Emily in Paris."

Philippe frowned. "Qui est-elle?" Who is she?

Charlee-Mae giggled. "Not who, but what. It"s a show on Netflix," she explained, "and that"s basically where I got all my knowledge of Frenchmen from."

"Ah."

Her husband now looked and sounded very relaxed, and that told her all she needed to know. He was jealous, and it was so, so cute!

Philippe"s gaze narrowed at his wife. "I don"t think I like how you are looking at me."

Charlee-Mae was all innocence as she asked, "How am I looking at you?"

"Like you think you already know everything there is to know about me."

"And is that not how it should be," she parried back, "between married couples like us?"

"Mm." Jade-green eyes gleamed down at her. "Does that mean you also believe I have you all figured out?"

"Well..." Charlee-Mae"s eyes were once again filled with mischief. "That"s the thing, monsieur."

Heat surged through his loins, but Philippe was no longer surprised by this. His wife"s accent was still horrible as hell, and it was simply one of life"s greatest mysteries that he nevertheless found such a sound incredibly arousing.

"There is nothing to figure out about me."

Philippe"s lips twisted in a devilish smile. "I have a hard time buying that. Women tend to take pride of how com...plex they are."

Charlee-Mae couldn"t help grinning. "You were about to say "complicated", weren"t you?"

"See? You are now making things complicated."

His wife laughed. "Fine. Most women are complicated or, as you say, "complex", but..."

There was a pause, and when Charlee-Mae looked at him expectantly, Philippe played along and asked obediently, "But what?"

"But we become simple creatures the moment we fall in love."

This time, Philippe"s expression only changed to one of blandness, and although it made Charlee-Mae nervous, she told herself that perhaps this was also the reason why he had not been the slightest bit romantic in last night"s note. Maybe, she had been right the first time, and Philippe was different from the typical Frenchman, and he preferred not to speak of his feelings at all.

Even so—-

"When a woman falls in love," she continued determinedly, "a man only has to do two things to make her happy. One: love her back, and two—-"

"Buy her jewels?"

His sardonic tone made her look at him questioningly. "I won"t say there aren"t any female gold-diggers, but isn"t it your choice to date them or not?"

"And I don"t. I bed them, but I don"t date them."

"Spoken like a true womanizer."

The muttered remark had Philippe studying his wife in amusement. "And are you the one jealous now, ma femme?"

"Yes, I am," she snapped.

Philippe"s lips pressed together in a straight line. This was not the first time a woman had been jealous over him. And while such admissions - or even outbursts at times - used to irritated him, Charlee-Mae"s jealousy was yet another different thing about her. He liked that she was jealous over him, and he could not think of a single fucking reason why that was.

"My amnesia has obviously made me forget everything about you," his wife was now saying in an adorably grumpy tone, "so could you kindly refresh my memory and tell me again exactly how many women have there been in your life?"

"Countless."

She didn"t smile. "I"m not joking."

"Neither am I."

Her jaw dropped. "You"ve dated—-"

"I"ve fucked countless women."

"And you never counted them—-"

"Because I started pretty early," Philippe felt obliged to explain, "and in those years, fucking was my means to rebel. So I tried to fuck as many girls as I could. At least a different one each night."

Charlee-Mae was stunned speechless. A different one each night...at least? She had done a few wild things in her life as well, but...obviously, considering the fact that she was still a virgin at her age, she wasn"t really that wild.

Even if she looked the part.

While Philippe, on the other hand—-

He might look like a fairytale prince come to life, but obviously his past was more PornHub than Disney, and yet, somehow...

"I know I"m not supposed to force myself to remember," Charlee-Mae heard herself say, "but is it okay if I take a guess?"

"On what?"

"How we fell in love?"

Philippe"s gaze turned hooded. "If you wish."

"I"m thinking...we might have met somewhere we"re mutually invited."

"We have a mutual acquaintance, yes."

"And then you seduced me, didn"t you? Because I usually steer clear of Casanovas like you, but since we ended up married..."

He thought about how Charlee-Mae had asked for a photo of his abs via Charlotte, and his lips twitched. "I believe I was your type, yes."

"I knew it!" Charlee-Mae was feeling a little proud of herself. "So, let"s see. We met, you seduced me, and while you were thinking I"m just another girl to add a notch to your bedpost, you didn"t realize I was already getting under your skin, and before you knew what was happening..."

The prospect of voicing out her feelings and hearing him say "I love you" back thrilled her so much that Charlee-Mae found herself quickly sitting up, and as the sheets fell away from her body, and cool air brushed against her breasts and teased her nipples into life—-

She had forgotten she was still naked!

Charlee-Mae"s gaze flew up to her husband"s, and she could only gulp at the way he was staring at her breasts.

Oh my.

And Charlee-Mae then heard herself say, "I haven"t told you yet..."

"About what?"

The thickness of his voice made her head spin, and her own voice turned husky as she answered, "The s-second thing," Charlee-Mae stammered, "that a man should do to make a woman happy..."

"Je vois." Philippe was still staring at her breasts, and oh Lord, the hunger in his gaze was almost...savage.

"A-Aren"t you going to ask me what it is?"

Philippe finally managed to wrench his gaze off his wife"s breasts, which were the sweetest and plumpest pair of pink-tipped melons he had ever fucking seen. He looked at her, asking, "What is it?"

A rare, shy smile touched his wife"s lips, and he couldn"t recall seeing anything more enchanting.

"You make her cum."

FUCK.

He closed his eyes for control, but then he heard Charlee-Mae whisper, "Will you make me cum, mon Philippe?"

His eyes flew open, just in time to see his wife cup her tits—-

Putain de bordel de merde.

Charlee-Mae moaned as her husband fell on her breasts like a starving beast, with his big, strong hands cupping each bountiful globe while his mouth nuzzled the valley of flesh between them. In the past, she had been attracted enough to a few men that they were able to make it to second base...but that was as far as they had made it. Their hands on her breasts, nothing else, and none of them—-

None of them, oh God—-

None of them made her go crazy and wild with desire the way Philippe was doing now, with just his fingers squeezing and kneading her already-swollen flesh, and oh my Lord—-

He had finally plumped one breast to take her sensitive nipple into his mouth, and Charlee-Mae could no longer resist the temptation of driving her fingers through his hair. She had been dying to do this the "first" time she had seen him, with the way his thick, silky blond locks just seemed to be begging to be messed with by a woman"s touch.

Make that her touch, Charlee-Mae was quick to correct herself in her mind, because even as out of her mind as she was with need, she realized that she was still very much possessive towards him, and the mere thought of any other woman pawing her Philippe was enough to make her see red.

Philippe was her husband, and only she had the right to touch him, just like he alone had to do what he was doing now to her nipple, with the way he was suckling on it so, so hard, pain and pleasure blended into each other, and she was left panting as she clutched his head—-

"Mon Philippe..."

She heard and felt him groan against her breast, and then he was suddenly straightening up and cupping her face between his hands.

Jade-green eyes captured hers, and the lust in it was now feral, and Charlee-Mae"s breath caught.

"How do you do this?" he demanded savagely.

Charlee-Mae had no idea what this was, but before she could even open her mouth to ask, he had already swooped in, and her lips parted the moment their mouths touched.

Aaaah!

Her hands instantly reached up to his chest, Charlee-Mae blindly roaming his muscled form until she found something to grip: the woolen vest that was worn between his buttoned-up shirt and trench coat, and her fingers involuntarily tightened its hold when she felt his tongue dive into her mouth.

Oooooh God.

His kiss was as divine as ever, and she could only kiss him back just as desperately, with every cell in her body starting to tingle and ache. They kissed and kissed and kissed, but just as she was about to run out of breath, it was suddenly over—-

"Philippe!"

The outraged little cry his wife released had him laughing. He had never been tempted to laugh while fucking, and he had never had a woman make such a sound at the abrupt end of a kiss. And when he looked down, and he saw the way Charlee-Mae was staring up at him with a mixture of confusion, outrage, and appeal—-

Ah fuck, but this look of hers, this look that told him she wanted him to kiss her again—-

It was too fucking hot, and Philippe instinctively reached up to run his thumb over her lips in soothing apology.

"I only want to be fair, ma femme," he murmured. "There is your other breast that requires my attention..."

Charlee-Mae could only moan. So that was what he meant to be fair!

"And after that, there is your sweet little pussy, too..."

Oh Lord.

She had always imagined that men who were detailed-oriented and methodical were too boring for her taste, but with Philippe"s plan to lavish attention on every part of her body, she was obviously mistaken, and oh my, oh God, oh, oh...oh!

Charlee-Mae couldn"t help but gasp as Philippe suddenly bit her nipple, not enough to make her bleed (or at least she didn"t think so?), but enough to make her see stars, and whimper after whimper slipped past her trembling lips as her husband suckled away. It was just so good, so, so good that she once again found herself holding his head to her chest as tightly as she could.

She didn"t want this to end either.

But it did.

Because this time, oh God, this time—-

Charlee-Mae fell back against the pillows as Philippe gently parted her thighs open, and fire blazed through her body as she watched him stare at her womanhood like it was a feast for his eyes.

"I can see every inch of your flesh glistening with need..."

The words were uttered in the sexiest purr, and the sound had her moaning helplessly.

"And the scent of your desire is intoxicating..."

Oh God. Charlee-Mae could not stop herself from writhing at the erotic beauty of her husband"s words. Were all Frenchmen like this? It didn"t seem so in Emily in Paris, and—-

"I want to taste your pussy, ma femme."

Desire consumed her, and all she could do was choke out—-

"Yes, my God, yes!"

She saw her husband smirk at the way she had answered him, but she couldn"t make herself care when already he was kneeling down on the floor, and oh God, oh Lord, oh Jeeeesus—-

Charlee-Mae barely managed to grab hold of the covers, and as soon as she felt his tongue run down her swollen, quivering folds, she bit hard into the thick layer of cotton...and screamed. It was all she could do, just scream and scream and scream as her husband did more than taste her pussy. He was practically devouring it, and oh God, oh God—-

A convulsing wave of pleasure slammed into her body, and Charlee-Mae once again started to cum—-

Oh my Lord.

—-and keep cumming and cumming, with Philippe triggering another orgasm as he suddenly thrust his tongue in between the still-quivering folds of her flesh.

When Charlee-Mae woke, the first thing she noticed was how comfortably warm she felt...in a pair of velvet pajamas that she could not recall changing into. And when she turned to her side, it was to see her beautiful husband seated next to her bed, and a grimace twisting over his features as soon as their gazes met.

"Je suis navré," Philippe apologized stiffly. "I did not mean to make you pass out—-" He broke off at his wife"s soft laugh.

"If sex is always like that between us," she teased, "then please feel free to make me swoon every time."

Philippe"s lips pressed together. "I am being serious, ma femme."

"So am I."

Her husband sighed. "No." But his voice was faintly humorous. "I can tell you are not."

His wife laughed, and Philippe, in spite of everything, could not keep his lips from twitching in response. What was it about this woman that made her so different?

"Philippe?"

His phone started to ring in his pocket just as she murmured his name. Since it was presently programmed to only allow certain calls, Philippe knew it was something he had to answer. But for the first time in years - the first time since his brother had died, actually - he chose to ignore the demands of work and focused...on his wife.

"Qu"est-ce que c"est?"

Her cheeks turned a becoming shade of pink, albeit curious as well, and then she was suddenly reaching for his hand, and Philippe"s entire body clenched as Charlee-Mae"s lips gently pressed against his knuckles.

"Je t"aime."

Her French, even when she was uttering one of the most commonly known phrases of his native language, was still as horrible as ever, and yet at the same fucking time—-

The sound of it had somehow become precious, and it was why, even with his phone continuing to ring inside his pocket, Philippe heard himself say in return, "Je t"aime, mon coeur."